Chapter 2- Running out of Tears

"YAMI! YUGI! HELP!"

Ryou heard several confused exclamations from below and breathed a sigh of relief as the two star-haired boys came pounding up the stairs.

"Ryou! What's..." The sight before him left the former Pharaoh at a loss for words. Ryou sat upon his unmade bed, blood soaking the blankets as well as the front of his white shirt. Draped across the boy's lap was what appeared to be some kind of dead animal. It looked almost human, but because of the blood obscuring it's face and the rail-thin condition of it's body Yami couldn't be sure.

"Oh my God! Is that Bakura?" Yugi rushed forward, eyes wide in disbelief. Yami couldn't help but snort at his hikari's silly words.

"Come now Yugi. You know very well that the Thief is-"

"Hai, Yugi. It's Bakura." Ryou gave Yami a dirty look before turning his gaze imploringly to his fellow light. "Please Yugi! He's been hurt badly. If we don't get help for him soon I'm afraid he won't make it."

Yugi studied his friend's worried features and felt a surge of warmth rush through him. Ryou was the epitome of selflessness. After all his yami had done to him, the boy was still willing to do everything in his power to keep him safe. The Brit may not have been strong or incredibly brave, but there was something to be admired in such a pure act of compassion.

"Okay, Ryou. I'm going to call Kaiba to send over his private doctor. Bakura's not a citizen of Japan, and if we take him to a hospital there could be some awkward questions. You just stay with him while Yami gets some towels to try and stop the bleeding. Can you do that?"

The white-haired boy's face broke into a grateful, teary-eyed smile. "Yeah, of course."

Yami watched as his light took charge of saving Bakura. He may have been small, but Yugi was resourceful enough when need be. Still, the darkness felt sick about helping one of his greatest enemies. He gave the bloody mess in Ryou's arms a biting glare before stalking off to the bathroom to get some washcloths. Bakura had never caused him anything but pain, yet Ryou still felt obligated to help him. "Why do you do it?" the boy muttered under his breath. "Why do you have to be so damn good to a monster like him?"

Malik knew this wasn't real, but still he felt uneasy. The boy was in his childhood home, the Tomb of the Unknown Pharaoh. The corridors were darker now than he remembered. He looked up, and the walls seemed infinitely tall. 'Yes, I'm definitely dreaming.' This thought, though truthful, did not help relieve the tension in his stomach.

Malik began to wander the deserted halls aimlessly. It was all so surreal. In real life the crypt had never been this quiet. His childish laughter. Ishizu's scolding. There had always been something there to break the silence. Now there was nothing, nothing but the scuffing of his bare feet and the murmuring of his breath.

Except that the sound of Malik's breathing didn't quite match the rising of his chest. Someone else was here with him. The egyptian swallowed dryly and attempted to ignore the prickling of his spine. 'That's silly. I'm all alone. This is a dream and there's no one here but...' Turning the next corner Malik came to the tomb's longest walkway. It led from the tombkeepers' living quarters to the Ceremonial Room where the Tablet was kept. Unlike the other corridors this one was lit by what seemed to be hundreds of guttering torches. However the majority of the light came from the Pharaoh's chamber just ahead.

Malik knew he shouldn't go on, knew that whatever it was he would find in that room would not be pleasant. Still, this was a dream, and one did not behave sensibly while dreaming. The boy gasped as his feet began to make their way down the flame-lit hall. The breathing became even louder as he neared the chamber. In fact it sounded less like breathing and more like ragged pants or moans or...

A sharp cry echoed off the walls. It was familiar, like that of a child's. 'Why is he screaming?' But the Egyptian already knew. Unable to contain the horror welling up inside him Malik raced onward towards the Ceremonial Room. He had to find out once and for all who was being subjected to such torture, the same torture that he himself had been put through as a child.

Finally he reached the archway that led to where the Unknown Pharaoh's memories were kept. Malik's eye grew very wide. It was as if he had stepped back in time. The Tablet loomed as it always had, casting a ominous shadow over the smooth stone pedestal in the center of the room. A boy was laying chest down on the great slab of rock. His back was bare and covered with blood. The man above him was shrouded all in black and held in his hand a knife so hot it burned white. He would gaze at the runes of the Pharaoh's memory for a moment stroking his beard, then bend down to add another scar to his son's back. The boy's dissheveled, blonde hair shook violently as he did this, his lavender eyes squeezing shut against the pain. He didn't cry out though. That was not permitted. Instead a piece of foul tasting cloth had been shoved down his throat. The man must have forced it into his mouth after the first scream was let loose.

Malik felt his body begin to tremble. That was him lying on the stone. That was his father slowly burning away what remained of his innocence. This was his past, his life, his nightmare, but neither man nor child seemed to see him. The Malik that he was now was completely invisible to these dream-bound specters.

You should feel honored my son. Not everyone is privileged enough to serve a pharaoh.

The boy answered with a muffled whimper.

What was that? The elder Ishtar's voice might have been filled with poison. Are you trying to say something, Mariku?

Mariku? No! That wasn't right. That was Malik splayed out on the stone, not his yami. Mariku was gone forever now. Malik had made sure of that at Battle City, hadn't he?

The boy on the pedestal shook his head violently. His hair whipped back and forth like golden lightning, sticking up and billowing in a nonexistant wind. The man with the knife smiled and stroked this mop of sweaty spikes mockingly. That's good, Mariku. We would not wish for you to anger the gods. With a derisive laugh he pressed his blade deep within his son's back, making the final touches to his masterpiece.

Malik could see now that the boy was crying. He tried to hide it, allowing his bangs to fall over his eyes, but the elder noticed the sobs that wracked his young son's body.

DID I EVER SAY YOU COULD CRY? Grabbing a fistful of the child's hair, the man forced his head up and back, allowing the gag to fall out of his mouth as he did so.

The child clenched his eyes shut and shook his head. No!

Then you must be punished. With a flick of his wrist, the man forced the boy's head back even farther so that his bleeding back arched sharply. The child's eyes snapped open, and he let out an agonized shriek.

Their eyes met. For an instant Malik once more descended into the world of his own past. He was looking at a mirror image of himself as a ten year-old child. 'That's how I looked on the day I recieved the Pharaoh's memories.' But something was still wrong. His name was not Mariku, and this boy was not Malik Ishtar. Those were not his eyes Malik was staring into, yet he knew them well.

Help me. The Egyptian's yami mouthed the words so as not to attract the elder Ishtar's attention. Help me, please! Malik didn't move. He was afraid that if he did the outside world would collapse, and he'd be stuck in this nightmare forever. Besides, Yami Marik had never caused anything but death and sorrow. Why should he help something who cared for no one at all?

The child Darkness seemed to sense his hikari's thoughts, for at that moment he let out a terrible sob. Tears flowed freely down his cheaks now, flowed from deep, amethyst eyes that were as cold as ice and darker than midnight. The old man was laughing. Tossing his carving knife away he leaned over the boy's back, digging his hands into the warm blood beginning to dry there.

This is your punishment little dog! You have defied the gods! You have defied me! Now I will give you real reason to scream!

The act being committed was one so heinous that even in his dream world Malik had to look away. He could still hear it though. The child's feeble wailing, his father's grunts of pleasure. When the Egyptian finally did find the strength to look up the man was long gone. All that remained was Mariku, sitting naked at the feet of the Tablet. Blood ran not only from his back but from between his legs, and he was still sobbing, sobbing with harsh and broken cries into the comfort of nothing whatsoever.

Guilt overwhelmed Malik at that moment, and he bent down to reach out to the boy. Gently he touched the side of his face, wiping away the dirt and grime that marred the mocha-colored skin. The young yami reach out hesitantly to lay his little hand on top of Malik's. Slowly he raised his face. It was the hikari's turn to scream. Mariku had never stopped crying, but it seemed he had run out of tears. Blood alone now leaked from his eyes, blood that made the world around Malik lurch horribly.

"Malik! MALIK!"

The blonde teen sat bolt upright in bed and opened his eyes. "I-Ishizu?" Relief flooded the boy's senses as he gazed into his sister's worried face. 'It was just a dream after all...'

"Malik, we heard you screaming! What's wrong? Please tell me!" The normally reserved woman was close to tears.

Malik laid a slightly shaking hand on Ishizu's shoulder. "There's nothing wrong, not really. It was just a nightmare. I must have slept wrong or something." The woman hesitated a moment then nodded. It was clear that she was still terribly worried.

"O-okay. Then we'd better let you go back to sleep. Let's go Rishid." Giving her brother's hand a quick squeeze Ishizu got up and left the room. The Egyptian's adopted brother had been standing outside the door. Rishid lingered a moment in the doorway, stoic features blanketed with concern.

"You haven't had a nightmare in some time."

Malik tried to shake off the dream and answer his friend and guardian as naturally as possible. "I know, but really I don't think it was anything to bother yourself about." Rishid gave him a searching look with his jade-flecked eyes before giving a slight bow and dismissing himself. It was obvious he would get no further with the headstrong boy.

When his footsteps finally died away, Malik let out a long sigh. He'd had dreams about his past before, dreams that not only made him scream but made him plead and cry as well, but something about this escape of the subconscious had been different. It had not only left Malik scared out of his mind, it had left him feeling unexplainably empty and very confused. Not only had he dreamt of his yami for the first time in monthes, but he'd actually mistaken the Darkness for himself. It was unnerving. After spending so much time trying to convince himself that Mariku was a mere manifestation of his brain and in no conection whatsoever with his soul, Malik found this exceedingly eerie.

And there were other things as well. His father had by no means been a good person, but certainly he would never go so far as to rape his own son. 'NO! Not his own son! AN IMPOSTER!' Malik tried to remember the elder Ishtar more clearly. He was certain the man would never have done anything quite that vulgar. Not that hecared what happened to his darker half. That wasn't it at all. It was just that he knew his father wouldn't do something like that. It was just that...

"It doesn't matter." The egyptian was surprised by the amount of bitterness in his voice. That dream meant nothing at all. Malik had just overreacted. Now that he thought about it the nightmare had almost been funny it was so ludicris. His father was dead, and for all he cared Mariku could rot in the Shadow Realm for eternity. He only wished he hadn't given Ishizu and Rishid such a fright. 'I'll just explain it all to them in the morning. Nothing but a silly dream.'

Even after the 'silly dream' Malik didn't get an ounce of sleep all night. Instead he lay awake, staring into the vastness of his ceiling and trying desperately to think of anything but ancient memories and tears of blood.

TOT (Thanks for the reviews!)